Stepping Up
by RRSherlock
Summary: Sometimes, someone else has to do the dirty work.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just a little musings about what I'd like the writers – wait, they're on strike – maybe I can get hired! I'm non-union! – Oh, sorry, I digress. Anyway, just a short little something I'd like to see happen…

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Honest. Wish I did own WaT. I could retire. Go to some nice beach and relax. Not have to grade papers. Who am I kidding??

Stepping up

Sometimes, someone else has to do the dirty work.

"Want to tell me what got you all worked up today? I know it wasn't really the case, Sam," Martin tried to meet her eyes. He knew something happened during lunch as he saw her temper mounting from the moment she returned to the bullpen and then finally exploding.

"He signed the paper as if it were nothing. He doesn't want anything to do with me—or his child," Samantha looked at her chipping nail polish, the crumpled napkin held tightly in her fist, anywhere but her companion's face.

Martin nodded, not too surprised that the focus of her anger was Brian, the father of her child. Hoping what he was about to say wouldn't start her up again he said what was in his heart, "Well, I do," Martin reached across the slightly grimy table and took her hand in his. The café wasn't too far from her apartment. Martin had decided to check up on her after Jack kicked her out after her screaming match with a suspect.

Her head snapped up, "'You do' what?"

"I want to be part of this child's life—your child's life, Samantha," he put as much sincerity into his words as he could without spooking her. Their friendship was still on shaky ground at times as it was.

"Why?" Samantha couldn't fathom why anyone would want to be responsible for another man's child; especially someone like Martin who yearned for his own children.

"Why not?" he understood her hesitation. After all, if the natural father wanted nothing to do with the child why would he? "Seriously, Sam, the kid is going to need someone in its life that can survive on more than chocolate and coffee. Not to mention someone who knows more about babies than where they come from," he gave her a smile.

She tried to return the smile, but failed, the tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to fall, "I don't understand you," Sam swiped at her eyes and gave a rueful grin, "Damned hormones. But honestly Martin, why would you do this for me? For us?" she let her hand fall on her ever-growing stomach and asked again, "Why?"

His grip on her hand tightened, "Do you remember what you told me when I was in the hospital? That you'd always be there for me?" He waited, watching her nod, "Well, obviously I heard you and you _were_ there for me the whole time I was recovering—not to mention helping me get my head straight after I decided pills were better than reality. And truth of the matter is, no matter how hard I pushed you when we were together, no matter how much it hurt when we—er, I—broke it off, no matter what, I still care about you. Aw, hell, Sam. My sponsor says to be completely honest with my feelings!" He ran the hand not holding hers through his hair and blew out the air in his lungs forcefully, "Honestly, Sam, I still love you. Have since the day I walked into the bullpen."

Samantha used her free hand to try and stop the flow of tears running down her cheeks. She blamed them partly on hormones, but in all honesty, they were mostly from the man sitting across from her. "So you want to be part of my life too? Not just the baby's?"

"If you'll have me," Martin wanted the whole enchilada with Sam—marriage, more children, the dog and some kind of house—picket fence optional. "I love you, Samantha Spade. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

"No, Martin," Sam shook her head, "I'm the one who should apologize. When we were together, you did everything right. I was too scared to let everyone else know. I figured if nobody knew, than it wouldn't hurt as much when it was over and I was wrong." She stopped talking and took a sip from her glass of water. She licked her lips and brought her gaze to meet his, "Truth is, I love you too. And I'm really sorry I got myself in this mess before I pulled my head out of my ass to realize it." Samantha wiped her face again and shook her head, "I should have stuck to the alcohol and left the bartender behind the bar where he belongs."

There was a silly grin on his face, "Really? You love me?"

"Yes, I love you, ok," Sam sounded far more annoyed than she really was. Keeping her hand in his, she got up and sat down beside him. "Martin, I do love you. I think I've loved you a long time but couldn't admit it—not even to myself."

"Why not?" He pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Samantha leaned her head on his shoulder, "I've only said 'I love you' to two other men in my life. My husband cheated on me with my best friend and my father…"

"…left you and your sister," Martin finished for her.

She nodded and sniffed back a tear, "It hurt when my dad left. I was only six. I thought it was all my fault. Emily and Mom didn't talk about him anymore and when I tried to, they made me stop. After a while, I stopped even trying to ask anything about him."

"And Chris?" Martin remembered the name of her husband just like he remembered every other detail he knew about her.

"Chris, well, he hurt me too. Just in a very different way. When I caught them in bed—that hurt. Our vows weren't even a month old at that point. I tried to make it work, but eventually, I decided there was only one thing I could fix and that was me. So I left."

Martin kissed the top of her head, "I'm awfully glad you did. If you hadn't, I would have never met you." He kissed her again, "I know you told me some of this when we were dating and I wish I hadn't dismissed it so easily as your past and your past having no bearing on the present. Maybe then I could have been more patient."

Sam pulled back and looked him in the eyes, "If we're going to do this, Martin, we can't have any more 'could haves' or 'should haves.' It isn't healthy," she would have continued, but a small foot made her gasp and she laid a hand on her belly.

"What is it?" Martin was instantly concerned.

Smiling, Sam shook her head, "Nothing, but he kicked. Here, feel!" She grabbed his hand and placed it in the right spot.

For a few moments nothing happened, and then he felt it, a small kick. "Wow! He does that often?"

"More and more every day," Sam grinned and then grew serious, "I'm glad you came to find me, Martin. I've been a little terrified about doing this all by myself," she gave a short laugh, "Maybe more than just a little terrified."

"So, we're a couple again?" Martin wanted it all out on the table.

Samantha nodded, "But this time, we do it right. No secrets, no hiding, nothing but honesty." She screwed up once with him and wasn't going to risk doing it again.

He nodded, agreeing with her, "I'm in this for the long haul, Sam, but only on one condition," Martin hoped he wouldn't chase her out with his stipulation. "I will never do anything to hurt you or the baby. I will help you raise the child and love him or her like my very own."

"So what's the condition?" Sam was puzzled. So far she hadn't heard anything that would break the deal.

"That after you have this baby, and it is a little older, that we have one together. I want you to be the mother of my child too," Martin held his breath waiting for her answer.

"Well, aside from the awful morning sickness that lasted for nearly four months and came morning, noon and night, so far being pregnant hasn't been too bad. I could consider doing this again. Maybe even two more times," she loved shocking him. Sometimes it was just too easy. "I know I said I didn't want kids, Martin. I'm not stupid, but that comment certainly was."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

She smiled and nodded, "That's a 'yes' to both your condition and to being a couple again."

"And we'll take that part slow," Martin added, kissing her lightly on the lips to seal the deal.

"Right, slow," Sam moved back to her side of the booth, "So is this like our first date?"

"Sure!"

"Then how about feeding the pregnant woman?" Sam grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping up – chapter 2

A/N: Just a short bridge between the action

Nearly three months later, with a little more than a month to go in her pregnancy, Samantha found herself sitting at a café completely unlike the one near her old apartment. This café wasn't more than five years old and everything screamed upscale, right down to the casually mismatched cutlery and tableware. Sam sighed and sipped her herbal tea. She was early, but considering she no longer walked—she waddled—it seemed better to be early than to make Martin worry by being late.

'_Maternity leave isn't so bad_,' Sam mused. At least she got to sleep in late and hang out in her pjs if she didn't want to leave their new brownstone. Moving while pregnant had been really interesting; thank goodness for her friends, Martin's friends and the Tolands and their co-workers—not to mention the movers who did all the heavy lifting. She and Martin had found the brownstone on one of their Sunday walks and it was a great compromise to his picket fence fetish.

Samantha hadn't expected Poppa Fitzgerald to be thrilled with his son's choice, but Martin must have laid down one convincing argument because she never heard anything from Victor Fitzgerald other than '_Welcome to the family_.' Truth be told, he had shocked the snot out of her, but was relieved to meet Martin's mother and knew she'd be a fantastic grandmother to her—no, _their_—child. Martin was insistent that they call the baby theirs. That he was still willing to be her child's father astounded her. Even if she spent the next ten years pregnant with his children, she didn't think she'd ever be able to repay Martin for his generous spirit.

She glanced at her watch and realized ruefully she had misread the time earlier—Martin wasn't due to meet her for lunch for another hour. Well, at least she came prepared. Samantha pulled out the paperback she was reading and put her feet up on the chair opposite.


	3. Chapter 3

Stepping Up – Chapter 3

A/N: The action—part 1, warning for mild language use & thanks for all the reviews!! 

"Hey, Martin?" Danny called out as he came from the break-room, "Where are you meeting Sam?"

Martin looked up, "Café Bliss. Why?"

Danny snatched his gun and shield, "I was afraid of that. Come on, partner!"

They nearly knocked over Vivian on their way out the bullpen. "Where's the fire, boys?" she asked.

"Check the news wire and tell Jack where we're going," Danny called hurrying Martin along as he snatched one of the spare bulletproof vests from a central closet.

Vivian didn't waste any time arguing with Danny and headed over to the nearest TV. Ten seconds later she gasped and held her hand to her mouth, "No! Not Samantha!" She sprinted for Jack's office, "Have you—," she stopped mid-sentence seeing the shocked look on his face, "Danny took Martin down there. Do we follow?"

Jack shook his head, "It's not our case. We have to let NYPD handle this unless they call us for help. Where's Elena?"

"She was right beh…"

"Jack! Sam's…" Elena burst into the office and stopped short, "Why are we still here?"

"It's NYPD's call. For now, we're just going to sit tight and wait for Danny or Martin to call us."

Jack stood and paced a bit, the two women watching him wear a path around his desk. Elena jumped when Jack yelled, "The hell we're waiting! Let's get down there!"

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"Danny, will you please tell me what's going on!" Martin asked once the elevator doors closed.

Danny took a deep breath, "There's a situation at Café Bliss—a hostage situation. A guy is holding a gun to a pregnant woman's belly and screaming for justice." He didn't know exactly how Martin would react. Taking on the responsibility of another man's child was one thing, but fighting an armed crazy man for it as well?

Martin felt his knees go weak and he held the rail for support, "And you're sure it's Samantha?" his voice came out as a strangled whisper.

"Not entirely. The newscaster just said that all they knew about the hostage was that she's pregnant and blond. It could be another blond pregnant woman, but knowing Sam's luck, it's her," Danny helped Martin out of the elevator and over to his car. "Are you going to be ok?"

"You're kidding, right?" Martin said sarcastically. "Just get us over there in one piece and I'll let you know once I've seen she's alright."

It was a short drive to the café and by flashing their badges; Danny and Martin made their way past the barricades and to the NYPD officer in charge.

"Lieutenant Peter Lewiston?" Danny caught the older man's attention, "We were told you were in charge."

A tall salt and peppered haired man turned at being addressed, "Is this important? I'm trying to negotiate for a woman's life here!"

Martin pulled his badge, "I'm Special Agent Fitzgerald and this is my partner Special Agent Taylor. If we could use your binoculars a moment, we think we know the hostage."

Lewiston's posture relaxed immediately, "Know her? How?"

Martin trained the binoculars on the restaurant and let Danny explain, "We think she's his girlfriend and a fellow agent," he took the binoculars from Martin.

"Well?" the lieutenant asked.

"It's her," Martin answered dejectedly. "How the hell does she manage to get in these situations?"

Danny tried to inject some humor, "Right place at the right time?"

Lewiston just looked from agent to agent, "Any ideas about how to get her out of there unharmed?"

Martin nodded, "Yeah, but you probably won't like it." He reached for the bulletproof vest he brought from the car and put it on. The yellow FBI letters shone in the sun.

"No way am I letting some hot shot Fibbie into a hostage situation!" Lewiston growled.

"I told you you wouldn't like it, but what other choice do we have?" Martin adjusted one of the straps and handed his gun to Danny. "I'm going in there to negotiate my girlfriend and child out of there. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm going in unarmed so he can see I mean what I say."

Danny tucked Martin's gun into his waistband, "What about the other patrons and employees?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "It was the damnedest thing. I was on the bullhorn trying to get the guy to talk when all of a sudden, the door opened and everyone but the guy and your girlfriend came out. One of them had a list of demands—the usual shit everyone who watches too much TV asks for—a free ride to the airport and passage out of the country and a million dollars to start a new life. Like that's ever happened. Anyway, we started interviewing everyone and they all said the same thing—the guy, James, was threatening a little boy and your girlfriend…"

"Samantha," Danny supplied.

"Samantha, negotiated his release by offering to take his place," Lewiston finished.

Martin nodded slowly. It was just like Samantha to put a child's safety above her own—even when she was eight months pregnant. "And the rest of the hostages?"

"She talked this James into letting them all go. She told them that by letting them go, it would show us, the police, that James isn't some psycho."

"Sounds just like Sam," Danny muttered.

---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------

"James," Samantha tried to loosen his grip on her throat, "James, listen, keeping me hostage isn't going to get you what you want."

"How the hell do you know what I want, Lady? Just shut up!" James made sure to keep a hold of his last hostage. How she managed to talk him into letting the others go, he still wasn't sure. He was busily re-tracing the thread of the earlier conversation when a low moan interrupted him. "What now?"

Samantha bit her lower lip and tried to keep from moaning aloud, but no go. It was too early, but her doctor had warned her that undue stress could cause early labor. Low and behold, here she was, in an extremely stressful situation and in labor. Great!

"Hey? What's wrong?" James loosened his hold on her throat only to have her grip his arm hard. "Hey! What gives? That hurts!"

"You're telling me!" Sam breathed. "This isn't supposed to be happening yet!"

"What isn't supposed to be happening?" James' voice rose in panic.

"Contractions," Sam answered. "I think I'm in labor."

James let his hand holding the gun fall to his side, "Labor? Like you're having the baby right now?!?"

Sam shook her head, her ponytail lightly hitting him in the face, "Not unless my water breaks. It just started. According to my doctor and Lamaze instructor, I could have contractions for several hours before that happens."

James went quiet for a long time before asking, "So what do we do now?"

"Well, we could see about getting you and me out of this café," Sam suggested.

James raised the gun again, "Uh-uh, no way, Samantha. Not until I get what I want."

"James, listen very carefully," Samantha had had enough. There was no way the police or the FBI would ever give into his demands. "James, the police are trained not to negotiate with hostage takers. They have a very strict policy. You're not going to get a free ride to the airport, nor a plane, and don't even think about the million dollars you asked for. There are two possible outcomes for this—one, you leave in handcuffs, the other, you leave in a body bag. There's—ah!" Sam gripped James' arm tight and held on though another contraction.

"I thought you said it would be a long time!" James was starting to panic, but never lost control of either Samantha, or the gun.

Samantha tuned him out and focused on her breathing. She didn't know what to tell him. According to everyone she talked to and all the books she read, contractions began slowly, increasing in frequency and strength with each contraction. She felt like she went from 0 to 60 in the scant twenty minutes that had passed since her first contraction.

"Samantha? Are you ok?" James was starting to get worried. He didn't actually plan to hold someone hostage when he got up this morning. But then he got the letter from the Army and something in him just snapped. They were charging him for being AWOL from his unit. All he wanted was what every working father in this country got—paternity leave. They were going to put him in jail for being with his wife and child when they needed him the most. It wasn't fair! And then when he saw the MPs at the hospital, well, he didn't know what other options he had left once he escaped them and he ended up in Shelly's favorite café with his service pistol.

"I…I think I need to sit down," Samantha breathed, "Please?"

James grabbed one of the tall stools from the counter and helped Samantha sit before resuming his position behind her with one arm around her throat and the pistol aimed at her belly. "Better?"

"For now," Samantha wiped her brow, "But seriously, James, what are we doing here?"


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping Up – chapter 4

A/N: The action – part 2

"He's going to what?!?" Jack roared at Danny.

Danny looked to Elena and Vivian for support, "He's going in, Jack. No gun. Just him and a vest." Martin was safely tucked on the other side of the building, closer to the restaurant's entrance. And, he had elected Danny to intercept Jack and the rest of the team from stopping Martin's grand plan.

"Well, he's either the bravest man I know or the stupidest," Vivian muttered.

"I vote for brave," Elena said.

"I vote for stupid," Jack glowered.

"So am I the tie breaker?" Danny asked. He quickly held up his hands, "Just kidding, Jack! How about we call it the bravest stupid trick he's pulled lately?"

"How about you get us over to where we can actually see what's going on and help out if we can," Jack countered.

"Follow me," Danny threaded his way though the police cars, SWAT team members, other assorted NYPD personnel and finally to the command post just in time to watch Martin enter the restaurant.

---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------

There was a tinkling of a bell as the door opened. "Don't come any closer or I'll shoot her!"

Martin moved into his line of vision, his hands raised, "Hey, James, is it? My name's Martin and I just want to talk. I don't even have a gun," he turned a 360 so James could see he was telling the truth.

"You're FBI?" James whispered, "I am in such serious shit."

"Well, maybe I can help with that," Martin moved a bit closer and finally shifted his sight to Samantha. He could see her brow shine with sweat and that she had one hand under her very round belly. "How are you, Sam?"

"I've been better," she panted, "Remember what they told us in class last week about stress and early labor?"

"Yeah," Martin was puzzled for just a few seconds, then panic set in, "You're in labor?" As much as he wanted to go over to her, the little detail of James holding a gun held him in place. That, and he knew both his team and the NYPD were listening via the tiny microphone pinned to his tie and the receiver in his ear. '_Get details_,' someone whispered in his ear. "Um, how long?"

Samantha glanced at the clock on the wall, "Almost an hour now. But I think more importantly, I think you're just the agent to help out James, Martin."

James looked from his hostage to the FBI guy, the disbelief clear on his face, "You know each other?"

"James, I'd like to introduce you to Martin Fitzgerald of the FBI, my boyfriend…and co-worker," Samantha had a good read on James now and knew he'd take the news in stride and would appreciate the small interjection of humor.

"Co-worker?" James nearly dropped the gun, "You're shitting me."

Martin wished she hadn't spilled that little detail, but trusted her to know what she was doing. "No shitting, James. She even started before I did in our unit." There was another whisper in his ear, '_Find out what he wants and get the two of you the hell out of there!_' This time, Martin recognized the voice as Jack's. "So, James, what's your story?"

---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------

Samantha nodded at James, "It seems that the Army didn't take too kindly to James asking for paternity leave and slapped him with an AWOL tag once they figured he'd left. A couple of MP's were coming to arrest him in the hospital this morning."

Martin nodded slowly, "You asked your CO for the time?"

James nodded, "But the bastard said my place was with the unit and my wife be damned."

"What did _his_ CO say?" Martin only hoped James followed the chain of command or he was out of luck.

"Unavailable for anyone under Commander rank. So I left. Shelly's the best thing that happened to me since my folks were killed," James swiped under his nose, oblivious to the fact that it was the same hand that was holding the gun. "She's an orphan too, so she and me and the baby—we're all each other has. I had to be with her!"

"Are you in a combat unit?" Martin asked.

James shook his head, "No, I'm at Fort Drum. I'm part of the Mountain Rescue Squad."

Martin's take on James was that he was a young man with choices forced upon him; choices that his early-20's mind only understood in black or white. Choices that made him reach for a gun when he should have reached for a telephone. Martin opened his mouth to offer a suggestion when a sharp gasp of pain interrupted him. "Sam?" She was pale, her eyes closed and one hand held the top of her belly.

'_That's not normal labor pain, Martin. Get her to tell you what it felt like—quickly_,' this time the voice was Vivian's.

Ignoring the gun James still held, Martin came right up to her and put his hand on her face, "Sam, what happened?"

"I dunno," she whispered, "like something tearing." She opened her eyes to meet his, the tears falling down her cheeks, "Hurts."

"I know, sweetheart," Martin whispered back, wiping her tears with his thumb. He tilted his head as new instructions came into his ear.

'_Get her to lie down on her back, keeping her knees up,_' Vivian's voice instructed. '_The paramedics are here and they say that should ease the pain until we can get her out_.'

Martin nodded, forgetting she couldn't see into the restaurant, "James? How about we let Samantha lie down? I don't think this position's good for her. James?" Martin tore his gaze from Sam's face to look at her captor. He had gone as pale as Samantha and from the looks of it, was on the verge of fainting. "James!" Martin said sharply, "Sit down and put your head between your knees. I can only deal with one medical emergency at a time!" Seeing James follow his instructions, Martin helped Samantha off the tall chair and onto the floor. "Keep your knees up, Sam. It should help."

She did as he told her and gave him a puzzled look. How did he know what would help?

Martin nodded his head to the door and tapped his ear, "Better?"

Sam nodded and understood that they were listening outside. Had she been thinking clearer, she could have figured that one out on her own. She blamed it on being pregnant and a hostage. "How's James?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" James wept into his hands, the gun at his feet. "I'm such a screw-up!"

Martin quietly handed the gun to Samantha and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, "No, James, you're not a screw-up. You're a father who only wanted the best for his child and his wife. There's nothing wrong with that. Your CO was wrong not to give you leave. I'll wager a week's pay that there's more to his story other than being a jerk about giving you time off. I'm going to have to arrest you for the hostage situation, but I have a friend who works at the Pentagon in DC and I'll see what we can do about the AWOL charges."

"Why would you do that for me?" James asked as Martin cuffed him.

He nodded to Samantha on the floor, "I'm about to be a father too, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for Sam or our baby," he gave James a wry grin as an NYPD officer took him by the arm, "I came in here without a gun, didn't I?"

"Fatherhood makes us do crazy things, huh, Martin?" James asked.

"That it does, James. I'll have my friend get in touch with you in a day or two. His name's Alex Wells and if he can't help you, he'll know who can. Good luck," Martin turned back to Sam and knelt at her side, "How's the pain now, Sam?"

"Not so intense," she sighed and closed her eyes. She let her mind wander to the fact that once again, she was a hostage, on the floor and in pain. Well, at least the bad guy—not that James was really that bad—was leaving first, and in handcuffs.


	5. Chapter 5

Stepping Up – chapter 5

A/N: The end. Warning for mild language use.

---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------

The alarm went off and Samantha reached over and poked Martin, "Call in sick."

Martin rolled over with a groan to face her, during her month-long bed rest she's asked at least twice a week, "You know I can't do that, Sam. We're down an agent as it is," he kissed her lightly and rubbed her belly, "Not that anyone begrudges you for it, but I just don't see Jack giving me a day off to play hooky with you."

"So tell him you need to take me to the hospital instead," Sam grinned, "Or don't you want to be there for the birth?"

"Holy shit, Sam! You're in labor? Why the hell didn't you wake me up?" Martin tore out of bed and began throwing his clothes from the day before back on his body.

Samantha slowly sat up and shook her head, "Martin, calm down. I've been in labor since 2 this morning, but everything's going like textbook. Go take a quick shower, you'll feel better and I won't have to send you out of the room when I can't stand the smell."

---------------------------------//---------------------------------//--------------------------------

Eight hours later, Samantha was sitting in her hospital bed, holding her newborn son. She smiled as he yawned, "When your Daddy gets back here, we're going to have to show him your cute dimples, little man."

There was a quick knock on the door and then a small voice called out, "Mommy! Daddy says my brother is here!"

Sam nodded, "Want to come up here and see him?"

"Here you go Lexie," Martin hoisted their three-year-old onto the bed and watched the siblings meet for the first time with a smile.

"He's so little, Mommy," Alexis said with wonder. "Was I that little too?"

Samantha leaned over and kissed her, "Actually, you were even smaller."

"No way. Can I hold him?"

"Sure. Come sit in my lap, and I'll help you," Sam lifted her arms so the little girl could get comfortable. "Now, remember what we talked about."

Lexie held out her arms and nodded, "His head's heavy and his neck is little so I have to hold his head gently and not throw him like I throw my dolly."

Martin laughed, "That's right, princess. Good job!" He marveled at the sight before him. Lexie—Alexis—was Samantha in miniature and the look of concentration and love on her little face tugged at his heart. But nestled in her arms was their newest joy, Owen Ryan. Lexie was going to be a good big sister, Martin could already tell. He turned his attention to Samantha. She was the picture of perfection in his eyes. She looked tired, but happy. Her smile lit the room as he watched her hold their daughter's arms around their son. Not being able to resist, he joined his wife and children on the bed, adding his arms to the mix.

"Everyone say 'cheese'!" Danny commanded from the doorway. He came to see the newest member of the Fitzgerald clan and couldn't have timed it better. He snapped a couple just in case Martin blinked.

"Hi, Uncle Danny!"

"Hi, yourself, Lexie. Who's that?" he pointed to the baby.

Alexis frowned, "That's my little brother," she turned to her father, "I thought you said Uncle Danny was smart."

The adults all laughed. "I was just teasing you, Lexie," Danny assured her, "I was really asking what his name is, because your mommy and daddy wouldn't tell."

"Oh," she smiled, "This is Owen Ryan Fitzgerald, my little brother."

Just then, Owen began to cry. "Ok, ok," Samantha took the baby back into her own arms, letting Lexie go give Danny a hug. "Sorry, guys, but he's hungry."

"Hey, Lexie, let's go look at the other babies," Danny suggested, not wanting to witness Samantha feeding Owen.

"There are other babies here?" her little brown eyes lit up with excitement and she hopped off the bed, "Let's go!"

"I think he just created a monster," Martin quipped to Sam as she began to feed the infant.

"We'll probably have to bring her here once in a while," she muttered, smiling down at their son. She ran a finger over his head and sighed contentedly. "He's got your dimples, Marty."

"Really?" Martin leaned over and kissed her temple, "and how did you discover that?"

She yawned just thinking about it, "When he yawned earlier. He's going to steal hearts."

"Oh, why do you say that?" Martin pulled her so that she was leaning against him, supporting her as she continued to nourish Owen.

"'Cause he's going to be just like you," she yawned again and closed her eyes.

Martin smiled, "Did I steal yours?"

"Um-hm," Samantha lifted the infant to her shoulder and began rubbing his back gently, "But I don't want it back. It's yours now."

"I'll take good care of it," Martin took Owen from her now that he burped and laid him in the bassinette. "But you have to promise me something, Sam."

"What?"

"That you'll take care of mine," he cuddled her close, "'Cause you stole mine ages ago."

fin

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I just wanted to thank everyone for their lovely reviews! I've got a couple more fics in the works, so stay tuned…


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